The Secret Hollow
by Rainmaker2112
Summary: Doesn't follow HBP. Now in her 7th year, Hermione is not the same person she used to be. She discovers a secret hollow that might have the power to help her become happy again. As the year continues, she finds herself falling in love.
1. The New Hermione

Chapter One: The New Hermione

"Hermione, hurry up! You're going to miss the train!" A smart but tired looking girl with curly brown hair stuffed the last of her clothing into her trunk and closed the lid with a snap, hastily sliding the lock into place. She took a last glance at her bedroom and then stepped into the hallway, dragging her trunk behind her. 'Goodbye until next summer,' she thought with mixed emotions.

"I'm coming, mum," she called down the stairs. Five minutes later Hermione, her mother, and her father were merging into the highway traffic, discussing as usual the importance of doing well in school.

"This is your last year-"

"Mum, _I know_. You've told me a thousand bloody times." Hermione knew the lecture by now. The last year, her last chance… She had to make this year count. She had to make her parents proud. 'It's not as if it's not true,' she thought to herself, 'I'm just so tired of hearing it.'

She turned to look at herself in the reflection of the window. She had the look of one who had fallen by the wayside. Her skin was pale, her eyes seemed dead. She had perhaps tried too hard to hide the bags under here eyes with makeup; it just make her skin look waxy. And the patches of brushed on pink on her cheeks were too pink to be convincing. She tugged on the sleeves of her robes, making sure they covered her arms completely. This was not an issue, however, as her clothes had been hanging rather limply from her thinning body lately.

In what seemed like a very long time, they arrived at the train station with only minutes to spare. "Make us proud!" her parents called as walked through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾. There before her stood the scarlet Hogwarts Express, already beginning to move slowly, whistle blowing and steam billowing. She quickly ran to a door, yanked it open and threw herself and her trunk inside just in time, for the train was picking up speed quickly.

"You made it. That was awfully close there," said a voice behind her. She turned around to see Ron standing in the corridor, grinning at her.

"Ron! How are you? I missed you!" Hermione's mouth twisted into the first genuine smile she had given in months.

He looked her up and down, his expression of amusements fading slightly. I'm fine, but what about you?"

"I've… never been better," she said, her voice sounding falsely cheery even to her own ears.

Ron gave her a searching look but said no more as he lead her to the compartment where her other best friend, Harry Potter, was waiting for them. "Oi, help me with this trunk," Ron told Harry. "It weighs more than you do." Together the two boys hoisted the enormous trunk up into the luggage rack. When they had finished, they sat down in their seats and turned to Hermione.

"So… Head Girl, eh?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Do either of you know who the Head Boy is?"

"No idea," answered Harry, not noticing the faint red tinge beginning to rise in Ron's face.

"How about you, Ron?" Hermione asked him curiously. "Why are you blushing?"

"Because," said a female voice, "he's embarrassed because _he's_ the Head Boy." Ron's younger sister Ginny was standing inside the compartment, smiling smugly.

"Really?" Harry and Hermione exclaimed at the same time.

"Yes, and he's _ashamed_," said Ginny.

"Bugger off, Gin," Ron, who was now scarlet out of anger and embarrassment, told her.

"You didn't tell mum to bugger off when she found out," Ginny retorted. She bent down and pinched her brother's cheeks, saying in a baby voice, "She was so _proud!_"

"Cut it _out_, Ginny!" Ron leapt to his feet, making a grab for her, but she was too quick, running into the train corridor before he could catch her. Ron sighed. "Go on, laugh then," he said. But neither Harry nor Hermione were laughing. On the contrary, they were looking at him, astonished.

"Congratulations, Ron!" said Hermione. "That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, well done, mate," Harry said, slapping him on the back.

Hermione tugged on her sleeves again. "How do you feel?"

Ron shrugged. "It's okay, I guess." He grinned. "Mum was elated."

"That's really great, Ron," Harry said again. "Say, how was the Quidditch cup this summer?" And with that, they boys were off on another subject, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

She was really Head Girl. Feeling embarrassed for no real reason, she turned her head to look out the window. Was this really who she had become? Her friends were strong, powerful, and confident, and she was weak and scared to tell people the truth… She grabbed her wrist compulsively when she heard the compartment door slide back.

"Anything off the cart?" said the small, plump witch.

"D'you want anything, Hermione?" Ron asked. Harry was, as usual, paying for the food.

"No thanks, I'm not very hungry."

"Sure you are," said Ron slowly with the same searching look he had given her earlier. "Harry, get her two cauldron cakes."

Harry complied, adding Hermione's food to the pile on the seat.

"Really, it's okay." She stared at the pastry. Nothing had ever looked less appetizing.

Ron shoved the cauldron cake into her hand. "Eat," he said sternly. He watched as she unwrapped it and took a small bite. It tasted like cardboard, but she swallowed it so that Ron would stop watching her. She gave him a false smile, and, obviously satisfied, he began talking to Harry again.

'I hate living like this,' Hermione thought. 'I hate who I've become.' Outside, the sky had turned dark. Big black clouds in the distance showed oncoming rain. Slowly, a tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away before Harry or Ron could see. 'Maybe they could help me if they knew.' No. Nobody could help her. Nobody could know. 'They're your best friends. They'll find out eventually' "Um," Harry and Ron looked at her expectantly. She couldn't tell them. "I-I fancy a walk, I think." She suddenly felt nervous.

"You okay, 'Mione?" asked Harry, looking concerned. "You look ill."

She stood up, clutching the seat for support. "I'm fine," she answered shortly. She pushed past the boys and slid open the compartment door, stepping out into the corridor and swaying on the spot.

She stumbled past various compartments, catching jumbled parts of conversations. A clap of thunder sounded. She continued down the corridor. She knew she couldn't keep her secret much longer. She'd have to roll her sleeves up for potions, or somebody would see in the showers, or…

Everything was spinning. Her thoughts were running together in her mind as she panicked on the spot. Suddenly she stopped. "Hermione!" Harry was running towards her. She threw one arm out to keep him back, and just in time, for the next second she had vomited right where he would have been standing. "Bloody… Hermione!" She needed more air, but her lungs seemed to be constricting within her chest, working her to take in air with short, painful gasps. Harry caught her before she fell, her knees giving out and her world going black.


	2. Confrontation

Chapter Two: Confrontation

Sometime later, she didn't know how long, Hermione felt a large hand touch her cheek. "Let me have the cloth, she's still warm." The same hand tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before touching a cool, damp cloth to her forehead. She opened her eyes to see Ron's worried face, paler than usual, looking back at her. Realizing she was laying on her back on the compartments seats, she tried to sit up, but Ron caught her on the shoulder and pushed her back down. "Lay down," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Awful," she moaned.

"Here, have some water." Harry, who was kneeling beside her on the floor, helped her hold the bottle to her mouth while she drank. "We were scared, 'Mione. What was wrong?"

Rolling over, Hermione mumbled an incoherent, "Dunno." Standing up, she caught a look of her zombie-like self in the glass window. Her face was covered in sweat and water from the cloth and her makeup was now completely gone. Harry walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her around to look him in the face. His gaze was hard.

"Hermione, tell us what's the matter. We can tell you're upset about something, we're not stupid." When he got no response, he spun around to face Ron in frustration. "Bloody hell… I'm going to find the food trolley and get her something else to eat." With that, he strode out of the compartment and slammed the door behind him.

There was an awkward silence before Ron spoke in a shaky voice. "You know how he gets. His temper got the best of him…"

"Yeah, I guess," said Hermione quietly. She was glad that Ron wasn't making her tell him what was wrong.

Wordlessly, he crossed the compartment and sat down, patting the seat next to him. She obliged, and once she settled into the seat, he asked her, "So how was your summer?"

Harry didn't return to the compartment until the train rolled into Hogsmeade Station, stopping with a jolt. "It's raining," he said with a frown. Outside the window, the clouds that had looked so threatening before were now spilling buckets of water. By the time they made it into one of the thestral drawn carriages they were soaked to the bone, their hair dripping and clothes clinging to them like a second skin.

Harry took off his glasses in hopes of trying to find something dry to wipe them with, but it was no use. Placing them back over his eyes, he squinted at Hermione. "If that happens again I'm bringing you to Madam Pomfrey. You're a skeleton."

Hermione didn't object. She knew that her soaked clothes revealed her shape with no lies. 'Fine,' she thought. 'I just won't let it happen again.'

An hour later they were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the great hall. The clinking sound of forks and knives could be heard all around as Harry, Ron, and Hermione enjoyed the feast. "_Harry_," Hermione said impatiently, "I don't even _like_ asparagus." She grabbed his wrist before he could give her a third helping.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, looking taken aback.

"Because then you would've force fed me three helpings of something else. Now you eat it," she said, steering his wrist and making him dump the vegetables onto his own plate. "You need the iron, Mr. Quidditch Man."

"She's got a point, mate," said Ron, grinning.

Harry glared at him, whose own plate was loaded with asparagus. "_I_ don't like asparagus, either," Harry grunted. Just as he stabbed a stalk and lifted it reproachfully to his mouth, their plates were wiped magically clean and the dinner dishes were replaced with a vast variety of desserts. "Oh good," said Harry brightly, "fat. Just what you need, Hermione." He nudged a plate of coffee brownies towards her. "Go on, eat up," he urged.

Hermione laughed and reached for a brownie, letting her guard down just long enough for her sleeve to slip back, revealing her wrist to Ron's gaze. He only starred for a second before turning his shocked face towards hers, their eyes meeting. She withdrew her arm from the plate as though she had been electrocuted.

"Hermione-," Ron started, but a look in her eyes cut him off.

Later, as they headed toward the common room, Ron bent and whispered in her ear, "I need to talk to you later." Hermione gave him a frightened, pleading look but said nothing.

"Protean," said Harry clearly to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open to reveal the familiar passage into the common room. They clambered through and crossed the room, taking their favorite chairs in front of the fire.

After a slightly forced conversation about the wonderful feast they had just enjoyed, Harry stretched and yawned, getting slowly to his feet. "I reckon it's about time for me to get to bed."

"Alright," said Ron. "Don't bother waiting up for me, Hermione and I have some stuff to care to."

"Right," said Harry uneasily. "Goodnight, then." With that, he walked suspiciously to the stairs.

Ron didn't speak again until he heard the dormitory door close from above. When he finally did speak, it was in a quiet voice, not demanding like Harry had been. "How long did you think you could keep that from us, Hermione?" He looked at her, sitting across from him. She looked so small and scared, with her knees drawn up to her chest in an effort to hide herself. Taking pity on her, he stood and crossed the space between them, sitting beside her in the large chair and placing his arms around her. She remained stiff for a few moments before she seemed to melt into him, placing her head sideways on his shoulder.

It was a few moments before she spoke in a voice that was choked with tears. "I didn't want you to think I was cracking."

"You can't be serious… You know us better than that. Honestly, Hermione, we wouldn't think anything bad. We would help you, not make fun of you."

"I know… It's just… I don't know. Oh, this is so embarrassing… Don't tell Harry, alright?" Hermione turned her face to look up at him, eyes full of tears.

"Alright, alright. I promise," he said, stroking that back of her head gently. He stopped suddenly, took hold of her hand and said, "But Hermione, _why_? Why do you do it?"

She looked down at her wrist, covered by her robe, and then her eyes moved to Ron's hand holding hers. "It's the only way I can get things out without _screaming_ my bloody lungs out!"

He looked into her eyes again. "Can-can I see them again?" She starred back for a few seconds, and then nodded slowly. Ron let go of her hand and took hold of her robe sleeve, pushing it up to the crook of her arm. Dozens of cuts crisscrossed her skin with each new centimeter revealed. Ron gasped, for it looked worse than he remembered from dinner that night. "Gods," he whispered. He traced his finger along a particularly long cut that had since scabbed over. "This one looks like it was deep."

"It was," she cleared her throat. "I did that the night I found out I'd be Head Girl."

"You're not going to do it again soon, are you?" Ron sounded scared. He held onto her wrist, sliding his palm up and down to feel the cuts.

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she closer her eyes tightly, tears squeezing out from between her closed lids.

"Just come to me when you want to, okay?" He placed his arms back around her, allowing her to cry into his chest. "I don't care what time it is. I don't want you to get hurt anymore."

They stayed there until Hermione had cried all the tears she had in her. Ron didn't complain that she soaked through his shirt; instead he continued to hold her lovingly, resting his chin on top of her head. When she had finished crying, they parted their ways for the night. Hermione dropped off to sleep quickly in her bed, dreaming of a forest with green glowing trees that held a promise of calmness and serenity.


End file.
